


Something Human

by melkywhey



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Adult Morty Smith, Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Morty Smith, Angst, Angst and Feels, Dingy space bar, Drunk Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Have I mentioned Angst?, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Jessica's still a bitch, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Pining, Shape-shifting droid thing, Too much alcohol, Weird alien creature, Young Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melkywhey/pseuds/melkywhey
Summary: Just a little fic inspired by the song of the same title by Muse.  Morty's long grown and in an ill-faring marriage with his dream girl, while Rick has mastered the art of age reversal in his quest to cheat death...  Not that he'd have any other reason to want more time to hang out with Morty.
Relationships: Jessica/Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	Something Human

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first successfully published work. I'm just gonna leave this here... *slides stapled pages under door, tiptoes away backwards, and runs.* :D
> 
> Thanks to a certain awesome lady for proofreading this hot mess, and then leaving the longest comment on here XD. You're a nerd, and I'm glad to have you as a friend.

Morty stood in the doorway of his parents' garage, peering out into the empty space usually occupied by the ramshackle old ship. Even the familiar, clinging scent of engine oil had long dissipated with Rick's latest hiatus. Morty averted his eyes, his gaze dropping to his weathered white tennis shoes. He took a step into the room, listening to the pale echo. Little motes of dust puffed up in the sunlight that drifted through the windows as he shuffled across the floor, stopping to lean heavily on the work bench. Rick hadn't been back to Earth in over a month. Five weeks and four days. Not that Morty was counting, of course. His brow furrowed as he thought about all the scientist had missed over the past years. Even his parents, unsupportive as they had always proven themselves to be- had shown more interest in the goings-on in the life of Morty. He huffed out a sigh. He supposed it was the life of Morty and Jessica. She was his wife, after all. Morty's hands were sweating in the stale air made even more suffocating by painful memories. He wiped them on his running shirt, his jaw clenching in irritation when his dry fingertips caught on the moisture- wicking fabric. Why did Jessica have to insist on picking out his clothes for him? "I just want you to look nice," she'd cooed one day as she cocked her head to the side, her hands behind her back in faux innocence. "You have such a sexy body, we should show it off!" Morty had given her something that passed as a smile and handed over his debit card. It was just easier to give her what she wanted. When she arrived back home 6 hours later laden with shopping bags full of carbon copies of her friends' clothes she had seen on her Facebook feed, Morty wasn't surprised. That's what he got for marrying the prom queen: a lifetime of high school bullshit. His face twisted into a bitter frown and Morty sprung angrily off the table. He hustled irritably across the room and slammed the door. Jessica would be home from work at the hospital soon. Steeling his nerve, Morty scrubbed his hands down his face, a deep breath filling his lungs. It was time to pick up the kids from daycare. After settling into his seat and clicking his seatbelt he checked his face in the rearview mirror, practicing a smile. It struggled to reach his eyes.  


Jessica was taking the wash off the clothesline when Morty pulled into the driveway with the kids, waving with that default half-smile of hers while the sun glistened off her tailored polyester scrubs. Morty's heart ached as he helped his son out of his car seat, the rambunctious toddler leaping out the second he was undone. Morty crawled into the large aisle of the SUV to unbuckle the straps of his daughter's backward-facing seat, peeking over the back until she gave a delighted squeal. Her gentle babbling brought the first real smile to his face that had been there all day. He scooped up the wriggly little redheaded girl and plopped her down on the ground where she could toddle to Jessica.  
Morty followed along after his baby, gazing at his wife and children. His attentions grew detached as he reflected on how his younger self would have been wide-eyed and stammering with excitement at the thought that this would one day be his reality. Now, as Jessica pushed their toe-headed son on the huge swing set and their toddler tripped and tumbled lightly into a patch of clover flowers, it left Morty feeling dissatisfied and with a cloying sense of emptiness that he couldn't justify.  
"So, still no word from RIck?" Jessica had turned her body towards their bedroom wall to unfasten her bra, sliding her soft flannel nightgown with the violets on it over her head. Morty had bought it for her last Mother's Day.  
Morty's teeth clamped around the brush in his mouth, and he peeked out the door of the en-suite bathroom. Tipping his head back slightly, he forced a laugh over a mouthful of foam, "Huuuhhnooope, noff- hhhnoffing!" He spit and forced a laugh again. "He's probably- heh- probably out partying it up in that new body of his, you know Rick." A feeling of dread trickled down his spine and left an uncomfortable feeling pooling in his gut. It felt a lot like jealousy.  
It had been his Grandfather's quest to master death ever since Morty (and Jessica, Morty supposed) graduated from high school. He'd made his great reveal one day by portalling into Morty's Senior year English class, yammering on about being "The- the Master of death, Motherfucker!" standing on Morty's desktop while Morty craned his body backward to avoid the flying spittle. Four years, a shotgun wedding, and two children later, and Rick had finally accomplished what he had set out to do: He and Morty were the same age. Rick's "new" body was, as Rick had poetically explained to Morty, "Basically a clusterfuuughcuck- a, a mess of cybernetic parts, Mooorty." He'd rolled his eyes, flapping his smoothened hands in disregard as Morty quirked his brow in wonder. His grandfather's face, like his hands, had become taut and youthful. It suited his wild personality... and would definitely give Morty something new to think about in the bedroom. "Get, get over- stop staring at me, Mooourghty," Rick had belched, "You're creeping me out." He finished his thought with several generous swigs from his trusty flask. Morty frowned. Rick had decreased his drinking to cope with a failing liver, and the way he was hammering his flask was disconcerting. The installation of Rick's new Filterbot1100 would make certain that the old man (Was Rick really old anymore though?) could continue his belching and drunken ramblings well into the future. Morty had rolled his eyes, bridging his nose with his fingers to relieve his incoming headache. What a life.

The Urtopians sure did know how to mix a drink. Still holed up in the same shitty space bar after a week, Rick saw no reason to leave. The lack of "ambience" was one of its redeeming qualities, in his eyes. Nothing wrong with a grimy toilet seat every once in a while to keep you grounded. He gave a hearty belch and stretched his arms over his head, reaching towards ceiling tiles layered with water spots and decades worth of smoke. He took a sip of his rail mixer and tipped his arthropod shell (what was commonly used as drinkware on this dismal-ass planet) in mock salute to a terrifying looking rodent lurking in the corner. It hissed at him, little suckers unfurling from around its tiny mouth in defense.  
"Heh. Fuuurgghck you- f-fuck you, too," Rick slurred. Yup, this godforsaken shit stain of a planet is the best, he thought with a wry smile. The three-headed alien to his right glanced over his way flirtatiously, its slimy tentacles rubbing together enticingly. The pheromones in its system were triggering the tentacle's lubrication sacs until they dripped with arousal. Rick's head nodded forward toward his emptying glass with a sigh, followed by a debauched groan as he ground his hips uncomfortably in his chair. He dropped his glass noisily to the bar, scratching his fingers into the hair at his temples. There was only one thing Rick wanted to fuck right now, unfortunately. After a few nights of experimenting earlier that year, he found that he could only get it up by pretending he was with Morty, in the most realistic sense. Everything else just went to shit, and he ended up disappointed. He wrenched into his temples moodily with his thumbs and threw back the rest of the iridescent purple liquid, adding yet another glass to the impressive pile next to him. Nodding to the barkeep, he belched, "Keeeuup em- keep em comin."  
Rick had caught onto Morty's affections years ago. Like anyone waking their horny teenage sidekick in the middle of the night, Rick had fully expected to hear suspicious noises at the door every once and a while when he came to Morty's room to fetch him for adventures. What he hadn't expected was for the little turd to be gasping his name into his pillow loudly enough for him to hear... suspiciously clearly.  
As Senior year drew to a close, the frequencies of the name-crying had hit an all-time high, and any hint of fantasies involving Jessica had pretty much disappeared from the repertoire. The ill-advised portal jump to Morty's English desk had followed suit shortly after. To Rick's horror, what came next was Morty's news of a date to the prom with his former crush. Morty had been so happy that Jessica had asked him, if anything it had just been a stroke to his ego. She and Brad had finally split up for good, and the fact that Morty had been ignoring her more than anything else that last year had worked in his favor. So Rick had made it his goal to sabotage that night, first canceling the limo. Morty had to drive Jerry's junky station wagon- man that had to be embarrassing. The rust was beginning to eat through the frame, and a bit of it had caught on Jessica's dress as Morty played the gentleman, escorting her from the front seat. Rick had stood, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed, his mood lifting slightly as the delicate organza of her ridiculous flouncy pink dress snagged audibly on the rust, leaving ugly tears in the fabric. Next, the dinner reservations at the restaurant had been cancelled for the entire group of friends that they went with. They all improvised and went to McDonald's, doing a photoshoot for their social media accounts instead. Morty had only dropped one ketchup-covered chicken nugget on his shirt, the little jerk. Lastly had come the big ticket item: There was a flavorless liquor produced on Saturn's furthest moon that was sometimes used as a substitute for rocket fuel. Rick put it in the punch, and watched from under a tablecloth for the hilarity to unfold. It never did. Not with Morty and Jessica, anyway. There were other kids running to the bathroom to puke, sure. Decorations were being adopted as clothing items, yup. But Morty and Jessica had been... having fun? And laughing together? Then they had the nerve to up and disappear for what had to be a good 20 minutes. Rick nearly got kicked in the head by a few whiny girls that didn't have dates. And then Rick saw Morty emerge from behind one of the pillars bordering the cafeteria, Jessica in tow. Her dress had been tucked into her panties in the back (yikes), and Morty's shirt was untucked, his fly unzipped. Fuming, Rick had snuck his way out of the gym and stomped towards his ship in disgust.  


Rick left Earth that night, running to Unity for comfort. They had kept him occupied for a weekend with throwaway sex, bad decisions, and- though Rick would never admit it- a shoulder to cry on when he got drunk every night and confessed his love for his grandson. Which Unity had totally called, by the way. Morty had actually looked happy, who was he to screw that up? Sure, he was wasting his life and falling into the same shitty trap that Rick had- fucking- TOLD him not to, but the little turd looked happy, damnit. And Rick lived to see Morty smile.  
What followed next was no surprise. The news of the pregnancy was well-received by Beth and Jerry- Jessica was human, and not a sexbot, after all. The kids were both 18 and graduating soon. They could handle whatever life threw their way. Morty held Jessica's hand as the little bitch leaned her head against Morty's shoulder. It had been decided that they would get married soon after graduation. Her parents were old-fashioned, and it wouldn't do for their little angel to raise a baby without a husband.  
Rick had clenched his fists, growling under his breath as he sat with the rest of the family, digesting the news. After so many years had passed of him holding back his urges, tiptoeing away from Morty's cries in the dark, pretending he didn't notice... This was supposed to be THEIR time. And Morty went and fucked it up. He'd steadied his gaze with Morty, catching himself and pasting on a smile when the younger slid into place next to him on the couch uncertainly.  
"Y'y-you know, Rick, it would- would, uh," Morty went beet red and coughed into his hand. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd be my... best man?" His head was tilted down in submission, waiting for the blow of rejection. He peered up at Rick through his lashes. Rick felt like his world had come to a halt. Morty took center stage, his smile so fragile, happiness such a foreign concept.  
Rick had felt his heart break at the request. So much for Rick and Morty, 100 years. He schooled his expression as doubt began to creep into Morty's searching eyes. "Yeah, Moouurrghty! We're gonna- gonna get you wrecked at your bachelor party, daaooouuawg!" Rick thumped his back reassuringly as Morty's eyes widened in alarm. "Let's go get-get that dick wet!" Morty covered his face in humiliation as Jessica did a double take and Beth slapped a hand to her face in humiliation. "Gross, Rick," he mumbled.  
The number of times Rick had thought about what he should have done was innumerable. Get rid of Jessica and the baby, use the memory gun on everyone else... But Rick would know it wasn't real. And, unfortunately, he was one of the Ricks who actually gave a shit. He slugged down another drink, his head finally swimming into blackness as he laid it upon the dingy countertop littered with debris.  


"You could just call him on the phone he gave you to use for emergencies," Jessica suggested unhelpfully the next day as she combed her hair into a flawless ponytail. "Otherwise maybe just give physics stuff a break for now? Make videos about something else." She walked over to him as he sat on his bed in his pajamas. "Alright, the kids and I are off! Don't forget to turn on the crockpot when the timer goes off, and try not to be so mopey in your videos. Use the south living room wall- the one I decorated really nice? Or go out on the porch and film today, it's supposed to be beautiful again." She kisses his cheek. "I'll see you after I'm done with work!"  
Once her car had left the driveway, Morty flopped back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted to Rick. Rick... Jessica was probably right- Maybe he should try the phone again. He rose and dug it out of his sock drawer, walking back to the bed and sitting on the edge as the ringer went directly to voicemail. Morty hung his head, pitching the carbon steel phone against the carpeted floor. Of course he wouldn't answer.  
Lying back down, he let his thoughts wander the paths of well-worn fantasies. The months after Morty turned 18 were when he had finally admitted to himself that he felt... something... definitely NOT so advisable towards his Grandfather. Stolen glances in the darkened in the ship lent themselves to foggy imaginings of the old man with his clever, cutting tongue tracing circles around Morty's nipples, his lips kissing his ribs, and working his way slowly lower. His nightly jerk-off sessions had begun to focus less and less on Jessica, and more on the fingers up his ass that he wished desperately were Rick's cock. Morty could remember wanting Rick to know so badly how he felt, going as far as to moan his name like a depraved whore when he heard the old man's footsteps creeping outside his door in the wee hours of the morning.  
Morty let out a breathy sigh and slid his hand down his pajama pants, replaying the more recent memories in his mind. The side of Rick's belly in the chair, his youthful skin having peeked out at him, teasing him with it lightly dusted perfection. The time that they had gone on a rare adventure for Morty's birthday to a warm planet, and Rick had gotten them ice cream cones, his grandpa slurping at the cone and licking the droplets from the rim. Rick in a tux at his wedding... Never mind the unfortunate detail that he'd been Morty's best man. He'd looked so delicious in a tailored suit, with his hair combed back tidily. Rick had held his hands and given him a lingering kiss on the forehead before they walked down the aisle when he had shown signs of getting jittery. Morty could remember the longing he felt as Rick's hot breath sighed against his head, pulling back all too soon. The warm, tingling feeling that had pooled in Morty's gut had come as no surprise. What truly did was the second lengthy peck that followed the first, drawing out the moment.  
Morty definitely had a hard time keeping his mind on his bride for the rest of that day. The framed picture of the groom and his best man sat on Morty's dresser. Whether or not their body language could be conceived as too close for comfort, or the fact that Morty was sporting a well-tucked boner beneath his fitted suit were both up for debate.  
Morty wetted his long fingers with pre-come and gently circled the silky spot under his head. He liked to think about Rick's kisses when he did this. It was nice to imagine the hot breath on his forehead that day had been somewhere else- that maybe Rick wanted him too. His hips bucked as he gave a gentle cry. Tears sprang to his eyes as he chased his pleasure.

Rick woke up in an equally shady hotel room. The faucet dripped from the bathroom, and there was a stale odor of amphetetron that clung to the air. Rolling over, he saw the blank canvas of a Dream Droid. Rick groaned. So he'd rented another fuck toy to be his Morty for the night? This was getting to be expensive. He placed his slender hand on the printed picture of a handprint on the side, and the droid hummed quietly to life. The small, glowing keypad hidden under the skin was flashing green and red. The droid was still and silent, sorting out Rick's data. Rick squinted and gave it a second of thought. Did he want to spend more money chasing a slightly dissatisfying orgasm while fantasizing over his grandson first thing in the morning? Well, it was already here... what the hell. He punched the green button. "Insert DNA sample," the dummy chirped in a sickly-sweet feminine tone. Rick struggled to sit up in bed, scratching the back of his neck restlessly. He groaned and reached into the night stand where a vial of Morty's hairs conveniently lay. The supply was getting low, as this had become a regular occurrence. Rick smeared a hand across his face as he grasped the vial in his other hand up at eye level. A memory echoed in his mind. "A hair, Morty! This isn't Game of Thrones!". Rick chuckled around the hand cupping his mouth. God, he missed the little bastard. He tipped the vial onto his hand, careful not to spill any of the precious pieces of Morty that he had left. Re-sealing the vial, he set it back in the drawer and straightened, leaning to open a tiny slot on the droid. The hair was placed gently inside the slot. A slight humming filled the air as the robot rearranged itself into the object of Rick's desire. "Good morning, Grandpa Rick," It chirped in its robotic, stutter-free voice. "Ready to give it-give it another go?" That was the problem with these things: they tried so hard to be realistic, but they always fell short in one way or another. But it really did look like Morty. And felt like Morty. Admittedly, their silicone skin had only become more and more touchable over the years. The DNA reached as far as lending the body the scent and taste of the being they were meant to be imitating. Rick caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he fought to hold back a depraved groan.  
Rick reached down his boxers to massage his rapidly hardening dick. "Y-yeauuughh," he suppressed a belch, rubbing himself. He closed his eyes as he met the mouth of the droid, the other hand subtly replacing his. Panting hot, heavy breaths onto the robot's neck and breathing in Morty's natural scent, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to pretend this was real. He pictured himself and Morty on the ship, soon after he heard Morty calling his name for the first time. He'd wanted to press him up against the window and kiss him. Why hadn't he done it? Fucking coward. Rick heaved a breathy sob into the robot's neck. His prick ached, longing for a soothing heat to envelope it. Tapping twice on the droid's asshole, the entrance became lubed and ready. Rick knelt down to smell the heady arousal of his grandson, licking around the hole and tracing his fingers through the auburn pubic hairs. Rick grasped the base of his dick as he lined himself up with the closest thing he'd ever get to Morty's asshole. As he pushed into the robot he had a bad taste in his mouth. Rick rocked his hips firmly as he felt pleasure beginning to pool in the pit of his belly. 

Morty sat on the porch that day with his camera on a tripod, his microphone strategically set so as to avoid any breeze.  
"So... THAT," Morty waved his hands in expressively at the camera, "is why the original starter Poke'Mon are the BEST!" he finished with a wink, encouraging his viewers to follow and subscribe, thanking his sponsors ("Glowblox shades, yo! I have three different pairs I wear at different times of the day to avoid disrupting my sleep- my sleep schedule!"), and finally turning it off and heading back in to upload. What a pain in the ass. He felt so fake when he had to promote products like that. Morty slumped his shoulders with a sigh. It paid well, though. His unexpected success paid very well. He sat down on the leather couch in the expansive family room (homier than the living room Jessica had painstakingly furnished to look like a replica of Restoration Hardware). He missed the couch in his parents' house sometimes. He missed sitting there with Rick, just doing nothing... His eyes had glazed over as the camera sat hooked up to his laptop. He gave his head a shake, forcing himself to refocus, and began the editing process. As soon as he was done, he thought back to the last time he had Rick over to watch Interdimensional Cable with him. He'd sat on the couch, and Rick in the armchair. Morty had purposely sat by an arm of the couch, leaving a wide berth. But Rick had sat on the chair. Morty walked over and curled into that buttery soft leather chair now, desperately hoping it still smelled like the scientist. He remembered how Rick had reclined, putting up the footrest and giving Morty a glimpse of a sliver of his abdomen as he shifted into place. Morty licked his lips, remembering how he'd felt depraved and hungry at the sight.  
Jessica and the kids had been at her parents' for the weekend. Either Rick had missed the obvious display of longing, or he completely ignored (i.e.: rejected) the thought. Morty had guessed that latter. But it didn't stop him from using that pathetically small strip of skin as encouragement when sex with his wife was... less than exciting. Which it always was nowadays. Morty sighed and felt his groin begin to tingle with arousal. All the innuendos, the flirtations (be they accidental or purposeful, he wasn't sure at this point)... maybe they only meant something to him. 

Rick wasn't going to give up on this droid. He had paid to come, and he was going to do it. "Haahh!" He gasped breathily as he imagined the last time he had visited Morty at his house. The little turd had obviously been trying to cuddle up with him on the couch, but Rick couldn't let himself do that. So instead he decided to give the guy a scrap of- something... until Rick figured out how to make this happen for real... If he ever grew the balls. So, whoopsie-daysie, look whose shirt got all rucked up in the chair. He could see Morty's mouth gaping open at the sight, and locked that vision away for later.  
"Y-yeauugh, Morty, like what you see? Wanna- wanna lick Grandpa's dick, Morty?" Rick felt his orgasm building as he fucked into the hole of the robot beneath him, the muscular response systems engaging and tightening around him, spurring him closer. He choked a breath onto the robot's neck as he hovered above it, the skin covering his titanium alloy elbows burning. Grunting, he spilled inside of the droid. Sweat escaped Rick's every pore as he collapsed on top of his pseudo-lover. 

Another week had passed, still with no sign of Rick. Morty had nearly exhausted his personal repertoire of witty Poke'Mon banter, and had been considering his next topic. He was torn on moving on to Harry Potter (he had tested Ravenclaw years ago, to everyone's surprise), or exploring Jessica's suggestion: DIY home improvement projects. Seeing as Morty only ever held the screwdriver for Rick, he was leaning toward Harry Potter.  
As he removed the camera from the tripod (he'd filmed in the living room today, it had been raining), there was a slight green glimmer coming in the corner of his eye from the next room. Morty waited with bated breath as the wall clock ticked. He rose from his chair and peered around the bend, so sure that something would be waiting for him in the next room. There was nothing there. Crestfallen, Morty moved throughout the house, grabbing his laptop and cords to begin editing. He'd been so sure...  
He headed to the master bedroom, going straight to the brick waterfall shower and attempting to drown his miseries (or maybe himself) while desperately jerking himself. Rick cared, he had to care. He loved him back. All of this had to be some sort of intricate, crazy plan of his-  
"Rick..." Morty panted as he rocked his hips up into his closed fist, "God Rick, touch my dick!" Morty gasped audibly as he came weakly on his stomach, feeling dissatisfied and achy. He needed to know the scrape of those long, skilled fingers against the inside of his rim while the scientist's other hand grasped his cock, twisting and pulling him gently.  
He let out a sob, his hand pounding the wall. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.  
He wanted Rick inside of him, taking him apart the same way he'd torn his life apart.  
Morty leaned bonelessly against the wall, his shoulders hunched as his hands and forehead supported the entirety of his weight. The cool pressure helped bring him back to sanity. The water pouring down his back began to run cold. He turned away from the wall and cleaned himself up, using the last of the hot water. As soon as the shower was off, Morty wrapped himself in a towel and padded lightly towards the bed. He gasped at the sight of a portal gun and a note on the bed he and Jessica shared. 

__

Morty,  
I knew you were still a kinky little shit.  
Seriously, it was like you knew I was here and wanted me to hear you. If you want to see me, come and meet me at the Glazborp Tavern. You remember where. You know, that planet with the Urtopians? We saved their planet from all of the volcanoes? Then there were the meteors and the things with the tentacles? Who am I kidding, the universe is full of tentacles. But seriously though, come see me.  


__The note ended with coordinates scrawled out on the bottom.

Morty let the note flutter back to the bed. He felt like he'd gotten hit by a bus. Rick knew everything. Rick knew and still wanted him to come with him. This was, by far, the best day of Morty's life. His towel fell on the floor, his mouth cracking into an impossibly wide grin. Digging deep into his drawers for his stand-by adventuring gear, Morty geared up the gun and shot a portal into the middle of the room, where he didn't even hesitate before leaping in.


End file.
